


Laid

by chasingriver



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Crossdressing, Genderfluid Character, Karaoke, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 09:01:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4257393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingriver/pseuds/chasingriver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Eames drags the group to a karaoke bar after a job, Arthur isn't expecting it to be a profound experience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laid

The four of them — he, Eames, Ariadne, and Yusuf — are in Tokyo celebrating a successful job. Legal, for once. Eames says the bar at their hotel is rubbish and drags them to a seedy karaoke place. He lulls them into a false sense of security with a round of drinks and karaoke-free chatting, but Arthur starts to get nervous when Eames gleefully hops on stage and takes the microphone.

When he recognizes the opening chords of James’ “Laid,” the tips of his ears flush red, and he wants to bury his face in his hands. Eames shoots him a positively wicked grin.

The song gives him flashbacks to middle school, of furtive listening sessions with his friends. All the radio stations replaced “she only _comes_ when she’s on top” with “ _hums_ ,” which made no sense at all. Everyone knew what the lyrics really meant — or at least that they somehow involved sex, even if the concept of a female orgasm was beyond their reach. One of his friends stole the CD from his older brother so they could hear the ‘uncensored’ version, and it all felt wonderfully dirty at the time. Looking back on it, his childhood was pathetically boring.

And now Eames is wrapping each innuendo-ridden line with even filthier glances and replacing every “she” with a “he,” and Arthur is caught midway between mortification and arousal. He tries not to meet anyone’s gaze, but he sees Ariadne’s eyebrows shoot up as she digests the lyrics, and she dissolves into a fit of cocktail-induced giggles at the blush creeping across Arthur’s face.

“This is _way_ more than I needed to know about the two of you,” she says playfully, and nudges him in the ribs.

“It’s not … I don’t …”

“Oh, you _should_. Everyone should. Eames isn’t doing it right if you aren’t.”

“Oh my God,” he says, and buries his face in his hands, positive he’ll never be able to look her in the eye again.

Thankfully, Ariadne turns towards Yusuf to provide him with a running commentary on Eames’ performance — or possibly their sex life — and he looks back up to watch Eames ravish him from the stage. Only Eames can take someone apart from twenty feet away. He wonders how long it’ll take to get back to their hotel and how discreet the taxi drivers are in Tokyo.

But when the song gets to the part about dressing up in women’s clothes — and dear God, how could he have forgotten that part? — he can’t look at Eames anymore. He can’t risk what he’ll give away with the eye contact, the one thing he’s kept hidden from him since they’ve been together: the pair of stockings he’d neatly rolled up and hidden in his old tennis shoes at the back of his closet during high school; the tasteful and extensive collection of lingerie he keeps at his various apartments; the lacy underwear he sometimes wears under his suits on jobs — well, before his relationship with Eames had rendered that too risky.

He’s examined his feelings a lot over the years. In high school, he thought it was part of being gay; later, he wondered if it meant he was transgender. Then he decided he just enjoyed crossdressing. He loves the feel of it and the incongruous way the delicate lace contrasts with his strong, lean muscles. He appreciates it in the same way he loves a well-tailored suit.

He doesn’t have any reason to think Eames would take it badly — after all, he forges women on a regular basis without batting a well-made-up eyelid — it’s just been easier not to bring it up.

The song has transitioned into the later verses and Arthur looks back up, able to meet his eyes now. Eames is still smiling at him, but it’s not the outright leer of before. Meanwhile, Ariadne has bet Yusuf 2000 yen that he won’t get up and sing, and he tells her it’s only fair that they do a duet, and now they’re trying to decide which one. Arthur’s glad the discussion has moved on from his sex life.

Ariadne lets out a piercing wolf whistle and shouts, “Encore!” when Eames finishes. He takes a bow and hops down from the stage.

“You okay?” Eames murmurs when he gets back to the table, and Arthur nods, then smiles and tells him how evil he was for picking that song.

Ariadne and Yusuf replace Eames on the stage, amusing the bar patrons with a terrifying rendition of “Don’t You Want Me” by The Human League.

“She wasn’t even alive when that came out,” Arthur says as the song finishes.

“Come on darling, neither were you. She’s only five years younger.”

Arthur gives him a half-hearted scowl, mainly because it’s true, and says, “I’m getting another drink. You want one?” But then Ariadne — more enamored with karaoke than he’d expected — launches into an off-key version of “Love Shack,” and they both discover a pressing need to get back to the room without that second drink.

“Sorry, mate,” Eames tells Yusuf, “I think we’re going to get out of here. You staying?”

He nods, his eyes glued to the stage as if he’s watching some sort of slow-motion car crash.

“Great,” Eames says. “Make sure she gets back to the room without anyone spiking her drink, yeah?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says distractedly as Ariadne gyrates on stage. “I can’t believe this is the same person who ….” He trails off.

“ — and if _you_ spike her drink, I’ll hunt you down myself,” Eames adds, his tone sharper now.

Yusuf looks up, a little startled. “Yeah, of course not. I wouldn’t.”

Eames is all easy smiles again. “Good. Just stating the obvious.” And Arthur loves that about him, his sense of loyalty and protectiveness, even if it is very selective.

They head back to their expensive hotel room which overlooks the vast cityscape of Tokyo. They have deliciously satisfying sex, in which he is _not_ on top, and he _does_ come, and even if he’s not going to mention it to Ariadne, he’s not going to get a fucking complex about it.

They’re both too tired for a second round, and they spend the afterglow staring up at the ceiling, Arthur’s head tucked in by Eames’ arm, discussing how they’re going to spend their week off in the city. The points of contact between their bodies — his hand on Eames’ thigh, Eames’ toes resting against his calf — feel reassuring. Spooning always makes him feel claustrophobic. This just feels comforting without being needy.

They drift off to sleep and he wakes up around two, too cold in the overly air-conditioned room. Eames is stretched out facing him, the thin sheet around his shoulders, but he always sleeps hotter than Arthur and never needs anything else. He pulls the duvet over them, but then he can’t get back to sleep, the words of the song repeating on an endless loop in his mind. He’s told Eames so much about himself in the past few months; he knows Arthur’s last name — his real one, for fuck’s sake. Perhaps it’s time he told him about this, too. It’s just that he’s already unpacked all these things in his head; he understands the difference between crossdressing and being transgender, but does he really want to start that conversation with someone who might not?

He slides out from under the duvet, making sure not to wake Eames, and pads over to the window to look down at the twinkling lights of Tokyo.

“You have shitty choices in karaoke music,” he says quietly, the soft glow of the city making it less real and easier to say, and it doesn’t hurt that Eames is asleep and won’t hear him.

He stares out the window for ages, letting the blinking lights lull him back to drowsiness, and eventually he slides back into bed. He gets as close as he can to Eames without fear of waking him up.

He thinks he’s been successful until Eames murmurs, “Some verses shittier than others, love?” Arthur stiffens, gripped by panic and ready to deny everything, but Eames places a hand on his thigh to calm him. “It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“I’m sorry. I could tell it bothered you when I got to that part. I wouldn’t have picked it if I’d known.”

He’s still panic-stricken, despite Eames’ touch. His brain screams for him to take cover, to curl up like a hedgehog on his own side of the bed and wait for the threat to pass, but it’s _Eames_ , so he doesn’t.

“C’mere,” says Eames, and Arthur goes pliant as he folds him into his strong arms, kissing the back of his head. It’s not claustrophobic this time; it’s soothing. It feels good to have someone hold him together as the panic ebbs out of his body. They stay like that for a while. Then, deciding Eames already knows at least part of what’s going on, he says, simply, “I crossdress.”

Eames holds him tighter, almost too tightly, and kisses the back of his head again. “I get that.”

He’s not sure if Eames actually understands, or if this is just him being accepting of who he is.

“Do you know what ‘genderfluid’ is?” Eames asks, and it knocks him completely off-balance.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course, but I’m surprised you do.”

“I don’t only forge women for work. We all keep our secrets, Arthur. That’s mine.”

He’s not even sure how to respond, suddenly seeing Eames in an entirely different light, and his fears of rejection vanish. And in the whirl of thoughts in his head, he doesn’t say anything, which probably isn’t the best response.

“Arthur?” Eames prods gently, sounding nervous.

“God, sorry. No, I’m totally fine with that, I just had no idea.”

“So when I say I understand the crossdressing, I really do,” Eames says quietly against his hair, and Arthur hears a smile in his voice.

The tension melts out of his frame and he spreads out along Eames’ body, and the comfort that comes with this level of openness is euphoric. He’s kept this part of himself deep inside — wound tight like a spring — ever since he bought that first pair of stockings, pretending they were for a girlfriend he didn’t have.

Eames kisses his neck and murmurs, “Thank you. Thank you for trusting me with this.”

“Yeah,” he says, “you too.”

They lie there in silence for a while, and eventually Arthur says, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

Eames chuckles. “Of course.”

“How do you define genderfluid? For you, I mean.”

“I only change when I forge. I enjoy being both, but trying to mold my male body into a female form when I was topside didn’t sit right. In dreams, I can slip into a woman’s body and it’s seamless.”

“Huh. Makes sense.” An absurd thought occurs to him. “So you don’t have any shoes I can borrow?”

“Not topside. Sorry, love. Can I ask you the same?”

“You mean for crossdressing?”

“Yeah.”

“Just lingerie and heels. It’s an aesthetic thing for me.”

Eames makes a strangled noise and runs his hand up Arthur’s thigh with the barest hint of fingernails, his previously languid body suddenly taut against his back.

Arthur’s gut swoops and his cock twitches. “Not a turnoff, then?”

“No,” Eames says, his voice tight. “Really not.”

The sex this time is frantic and breathless, but somehow more relaxed with everything out in the open. Later, as they lie there sated and happy, they modify their holiday plans to include some selective shopping and a few non-work-related sessions with the PASIV.

And as they’re drifting off to sleep again, Arthur links his fingers with Eames’ and says, “Thanks for taking me to that shitty karaoke bar.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the prompt: "Things you said when you thought I was asleep." 
> 
> Thanks to myk-myk-myk for giving me the prompt, and to kate_the_reader and mycitruspocket for the beta.
> 
> And a huge thank you to youcantsaymylastname, who came up with the idea to use "Laid." Without her, this would just be a ficlet about guilty-pleasure Britpop karaoke.
> 
> The music video for "Laid" - the "uncensored" version - is [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0trh9Y598fM).
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at [chasingriversong](http://chasingriversong.tumblr.com).


End file.
